


Beneath The Mask of Music

by AngelOfTheOpera1967



Series: Beneath The Mask Of Music [1]
Category: Phantom of the Opera (2004), Phantom of the Opera - Lloyd Webber, Tom Hiddleston - Actor, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Angry Tom Hiddleston, F/M, Multi, OCs - Freeform, Possessive Tom Hiddleston, Tom Hiddleston Being A Gentleman, Tom Hiddleston Is A Sweetheart, Tom Hiddleston in a Suit, Young Tom Hiddleston
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-03
Updated: 2019-06-27
Packaged: 2019-10-03 19:47:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17290268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelOfTheOpera1967/pseuds/AngelOfTheOpera1967
Summary: A young Thomas is cursed at 22, forced to hide himself away from the world. He has no hope that anyone will ever fall in love with him,  which is the only way for his curse to be broken. His music is his only saving grace, his only passion. Christine Daaé, is his only joy. But Can Charlotte Roosevelt change that when he's left all alone?





	1. Prologue: 15 Years Earlier

1866

In the early hours of morning, a young man of 22 steps off a boat from Brighton. Originally, he was from London, travelling down to Paris to start his own life, away from his condescending mother and sisters. London treated him roughly, never allowing job opportunities or a way to live on his own. The man was worried he would never get anywhere in life, until he earned a one-way ticket on the Claudette in a poker game with a very lucky hand.

As the ship traveled through the Seine towards Paris, he wondered what his new life would be like. He had very little money, hardly enough to live past a month in Paris, but he was confident that he could turn his life to success and earn his keep in Paris. Granted, he knew that his life would be hard before he even got into his career choice, being that music was not a high paying job, unless you were one of the greats who could make masterpieces without even trying. But he took his job on with a passion found only in people who truly love what they do. 

When the ship docked in Paris, he stepped off the boat, excited and ready to being his new adventure. He took what very little belongings he had in his bag, and went on his merry way. There was nothing that could take the smile off his face that day, not even when the first three inns he went to had no room for him. He simply smiled, thanked them, and went towards the next one. 

When he finally found a suitable inn, he was just streets away from his dream job, a composer at the Opera Populaire. The young man knew it would take a lot to get there, even if he just had to play in the orchestra and not be recognized for his own talents. But that didnt stop him from admiring the view from his window that night, of all the smiling faces leaving the opera house, raving about the beautiful music and actors the show had to offer. 

As the excitement from the opera house died down, so did the man's energy. He was extremely exhausted from the weeks of traveling, and his adrenaline from the excitement of Paris was finally running out. He finished unpacking his belongings, removed his suspender straps from his shoulders, and laid down to rest his weary head for the night. 

Unbeknown to the young traveller, a woman had been watching him from the moment he stepped foot on the docks of Paris. She could see his determination to give his music to the world, and with her help, he would get it, no matter the circumstances, she would make sure of that.

*****

As silent as the woman could, she snuck into the inn, and past the innkeeper who made it a habit to keep the trickster of a woman out of his establishment. She made her way up to the young man's door, and knocked loud enough to wake only the traveller. He was startled by the knock on his door, and wondered who could be coming to his room at this time of night. He slowly rose from the bad, looked at the clock, and saw that it was exactly 3 in the morning, down to the second. The witching hour. The man had never been superstitious, but he did know of the horrors that the witching hour could bring. And as it seemed, there was one right outside his door.

The exhausted adventurer opened the door, still half-asleep, and ready to get his well-needed rest, but stopped suddenly with his hand on the doorknob of the open door, and felt captivated by the woman before him.

"Excuse me, I couldn't help but see you rent out this room earlier. I was just wondering if you needed anything, or a nice visit from a woman on this cold night."

The man, seemingly escaping her trance like hold on him, shook his head to answer. He figured she was a woman of the night, and his deduction wasn't exactly far off, considering she had asked if he wanted the attention of a woman. 

"No, thank you. I'm extremely tired, and I have a long day of looking for a job tomorrow. " The man started to close the door on her, ready to bundle and burrow his way back into bed.

"Oh but I could help with that... Thomas."

The second she said his name, his whole body froze. "How do you know my name?" He asked, frightened by the woman's knowledge of him.

"That doesn't matter," she started, "What matters is that I can help you get your dream job as a composer, a man who can create music to enchant and enthrall a crowd, practically with just the tip of a hat. I know you want this, Thomas. I've seen it in your soul. Open up to me, and accept my offer. A night with me, a deal made, and a promise from you, and you'll have your job set in stone. What do you say, will you accept, monsieur?"

This intrigued Thomas... Just spend a night with her, and he gets his dream? It all seemed to good to be true. "Really? Just tonight? What's your catch?" 

The woman smirked and headed through his door, and straight for the window. She smirked down at the street, knowing he was in her trap, especially since he skipped over the deal she requested, as he seemed only focused on a night with her. 

"No catch, Thomas. Just a night with a lonely enchantress, someone so much more than a woman of the night. Someone who can give you all your hearts desires." 

Thomas was excited. He could get his life changed to perfection, and all he needed was a night with this seemingly perfect woman. "I accept. I'll spend a night with you, and get my dream." He put his hand out, ready for her to shake hands."Oh, come now Thomas, I need more than that to complete my offer. We start our night now." And with that she rushed towards him, grabbed him by the belt loops in the pants, and kissed his eith a ferocity that Thomas had never felt before. She put her hand on his right cheek, and brought him deeper to her. 

Thomas felt her hands on him, one still on his pants and one on his cheek. He felt a burning sensation on his skin, almost like a scratch that had alcohol poured on it. He guessed that she had accidentally scraped his face with her nails, but didn't care to think to much of it in the moment. He grabbed both her hands, and led her towards the bed, never removing his lips from hers. The witch fell backwards onto his bed, pulling him down with her, and she smirked evilly as she opened her eyes and looked at his face. When their lips finally parted, Thomas looked at her with lust and desire in his eyes, breathing heavily. The witch flipped them over, so she was straddling him and said, "Before we continue Thomas, our bond is set. If you ever wish to break yourself from this curse, you must find true love. A person who will love you for you, not for your music. Until you find that person, you will stay like this forever, and stop aging to stay immortal. You cannot die at your own hand, and cannot ask for someone to kill you purposefully," and with those words he finally looked up at her confusion in his eyes, along with fead of what she meant, "But fear not, Thomas, because while you are cursed and have fallen into my trap, you will still be rewarded. Your music is now going to be good enough for that opera house. Write your heart and soul out Thomas, for having your heart out on your sleeves will make it easier to find love." And with that, she kissed him hard, bit his lip to draw blood, and drew back up, looking at him. "Goodbye, Thomas William Hiddleston. Until we meet again." And then she was gone. No trace of her ever existing. Thomas sat up from the bed in confusion and fear, looking around for the woman who disappeared from his room. He looked at the clock, seeing that throughout his whole endeavor with her, it was still exactly 3 in the morning. With the pain in his face growing sharper, he passed out, not knowing what awaited him the next day


	2. Paris, 1881

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We are introduced to the new managers, and some background on our Charlotte.

"That'll be 20 francs please, mademoiselle. " The burly, middle-aged cab driver said as a young woman of 25 steps out of the carriage. Her face is hidden underneath a large periwinkle hat, pinned into her brown, wavy hair, weaving down her back. She handed him the money, without saying anything, with nothing other than a nod of thanks.

She stepped off the street, onto the cobblestone sidewalk, watching as the cabbie drove away. She placed her small coin purse back into her travel bag, all she had from her trip from London. She clipped the bag closed, and started walking down the busy street, to the Opera Populaire, her new home, and her new life, started all on her own.

****

"Now gentlemen, before I show you the rest of the opera house and it's employees, I must tell you that you'll have to audition a young lady who should be coming here anytime today. She is from an opera house in London, one of their best, at least that's what I've heard from my daughter." Monsieur Lefevre, the soon to be retired manager of the Opera Populaire stated to the two men who would now be in charge of the opera house. Monsieur Andre and Monsieur Firmin followed closely behind him as they left the manager's office. "But if she is the best from London, why must we audition her... surely she wouldn't need an audition with her success?" 

Lefevre stopped suddenly and turned around, " You're correct, Monsieur Andre, but my daughter has exaggerated, I'm sure. She's my niece, you see... it took a lot of convincing to allow me to bring her here, after our... argument about her father, but he is dead now, along with my daughter. For quite a few years now actually," was Lefevre's reply. 

"Then why only now, will you let her audition?" Questioned Firmin, "Surely it should have happened long ago." 

Lefevre was about to reply, but he strolled himself when he saw a dark shadow move across his peripheral vision. He turned towards it, seeing nothing but a statue. Knowing well of his "opera ghost", he decided to ignore it for now, knowing he'd be listening, as he always did, but never worried, as soon the ghost would be his problem no more. The new managers turned towards the direction Lefevre stared, but saw nothing. 

Seeming snapping out of his stare into the distance, Lefevre turned back to Andre and Firman. "As I was saying, we had our disagreement, and I have to say, I held a grudge against my granddaughter for far too long. I wish to make it right, whichever way possible. I believe she will work well here anyway, for her mother had a magnificent voice, which inspired me to build this opera house. I just hope she will forgive me for how I treated her and her parents."

There was a pause of silence as the men took in what was said about the woman. Cautiously, as not to hurt the saddened Lefevre, Firmin asks him, "And her name, Monsieur?" 

A deep sigh was released from Lefevre as he quietly stated his grandchild's name, 

"Charlotte, Charlotte Roosevelt. "

****

"Charlotte, Charlotte Roosevelt. " And with that, the three men walked forwards, towards the dressing rooms, finishing their tour of the building before entering the stage where rehearsals for "Hannibal" were taking place.

The men were watched carefully, with a slight glare, as they walked away. 

Thomas couldn't believe that Lefevre actually went through with selling the opera house, HIS opera house. Granted he did not build it or manage it, as Lefevre did, but he was the one who kept it afloat in its times of need. Spending money on costumes and props, creating new music, picking new operas, he did it all. And now... he had to deal with those two imbeciles who called themselves managers. This would never do. They wouldn't have the courage to get rid of Carlotta, or put his star pupil in the spotlight of the stage, nor did Thomas believe he would EVER get his salary with these two running the show now. And now, they are all distracted with this woman coming over from London? A girl who most likely will not be able to sing, but will be hired anyway? No! It will never work like this, not unless I show them how this opera house it to be run! Thomas decided it was time to introduce himself to his new managers, along with getting Christine her limelight.


	3. Charlotte

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charlotte arrives at the Opera Populaire. Lefevre prepares to leave, but is halted by his only grandchild's arrival.

"Rehearsals, as you can see, are underway for a new production of Chalemeau's 'Hannibal'." Lefevre starts as he leads Andre and Firman through the rehearsing crowds of ensembles and dancers.

"Monsieur Lefevre! I am rehearsing! Monsieur Reyer's arguments about his interruptions are passed over and ignored as Lefevre starts toward his ex-employees, "Monsieur Reyer, Madame Giry, ladies and gentlmen, please. If I could have your attention. As you know, for some weeks, there have been rumors of my imminent retirement. I can now tell you these are all true. It is my pleasure to introduce you to the two gentlemen who now own the Opera Populaire: Monsieur Richard Firmin and Monsieur Gilles Andre." Lefevre pauses as a smattering of polite applause before continuing, "I'm sure you've read of their recent fortune amassed in the junk business." 

Andre looks displeased as he mutters under his breath, "Scrap metal, actually." Before his muttering can do any damage, Firmin interrupts with more important news for the crowd, "And we are deeply honored to introduce our new patron, the Vitcomte de Changy!" And with this announcement, the applause grows. In the back of the crowd, two young girls are listening intrigued to the announcement. The brunette, young Christine Daaé, looks shocked and turns to her companion, Meg Giry, the ballet mistress's daughter."It's Raoul! Before my father died, at the house by the sea... I guess you could say we were childhood sweethearts. He called me Little Lotte."

Meg, being the young girl she is, starts talking excitedly about him,"Oh, Christine, he's so handsome! You must have been lucky to have him!"

While the girls talk more about his looks and the past adventures he and Christine shared, he continues on with his own introduction. "My parents and I are honored to support all the arts, especially the world-renowned Opera Populaire." And before anyone else can say another word he is pulled over to a woman wearing a bright costume, much more extravagant and expensive than any other costume for the opera. He looks shocked at the sudden tug on his arm, but quickly regains his composure. Lefevre steps in to help him with an introduction, knowing what to say to make the diva happy. "May I introduce Signora Carlotta Giudicelli, our leading soprano for five seasons. She looks extremely excited to meet you." Lefevre says jokingly, earning himself a glare from Carlotta, and a few laughs from the ensemble. 

"And of course, our leading tenor, Signor Ubaldo Piangi." As Raoul removes himself from Carlotta's grasp, he gives a polite, but quick smile before moving away, almost frightened of the Prima Donna. He gives Piangi a firm handshake and a smile, and is led away shortly by the managers, right past Christine and Meg, without a second glance in their direction. 

"He wouldn't recognize me anyway." Says Christine, dejectedly. Meg, seeing the sad look on her sister's face, quickly says to her, "Of course he would, he just didn't see you, that's all." Christine sighs, "Yes, but-" Their conversation is cut short by Madame Giry banging her walking stick on the ground to get her dancers attention to start their routine again. Meg sends Christine a look that says, 'we will finish this conversation later'.

**** 

The dancers and the ensemble all return to their rehearsals, as the stage doors open, showing a young lady dress all in periwinkle blue, with snow white gloves and a graceful walk, entering the room. Very few of the dancers pay attention to her, as they are focused on their routines, but the eyes of the singers, managers, and perhaps the worst of all, Carlotta, are all on her. She stops and looks panicked and anxiety ridden for a second, but hides it with her confident strides, and her large hat. She stops right in front of the managers, and let's them get a good look at her, before she speaks, "Pardon me, but could you tell me where Monsieur Lefevre is? He said he would be here when I came, but I haven't been able to find him." Her voice was light, and airy, but one syllable of a word could tell that she could be quite ferocious when needed. 

The managers, seemingly taken by her appearance, were dumbstruck. They couldn't even see the face of this lady, and yet, she had captivated them. There was an awkward pause of silence, before Lefevre seemingly realized who this girl was.

"Charlotte? Is that you? My God, you've grown. I haven't seen you since, well, since you were a small babe."

Charlotte wanted to reply with sass, saying that it was his own fault, and that he shouldn't have been so cruel to her parents, but ignored the overwhelming urge to do so. So, as she was raised to do, she left him with a polite reply instead, " Well, that was years ago, Monsieur, and I'm afraid that's what aging does to a child. But, no matter, all that is important is the present and the future. I've spent too long focusing on my past, too long for my own good."

Lefevre was taken aback. She sounded exactly like her mother when she said that, his daughter. He knew she would have Ill feelings towards him, but promised himself he would try to fix it before leaving for Australia to retire. 

"My dear Charlotte, you know you can call me your grandfather. I'd understand if you didn't but-" He stopped himself as he saw the new managers, Madame Giry, and Carlotta staring at them. He looked around the room, and saw a good place for them to talk in private. The seating boxes. He grabbed Charlotte's hand, ignoring her protests, and led her up to the closest box, Box 5. He led her inside, and closed the door, along with the curtains, shielding them from all prying eyes, well almost all.

**** Thomas watched them go up the stairs into the box seating. He didn't believe in any higher being anymore, after his 15 years of hell, but he prayed to anyone who would listen that they would stay OUT of his box. Mainly so he wouldn't have any real reason to hate this girl. He didn't care much for Lefevre anymore, considering he was leaving tonight, and hopefully he would never return... but... that girl... he already had a feeling that she would be competition for his pupil, being that she was already in favor with Lefevre, and he did all in his power to convince the junk dealers to keep her when she came around. And now, she was here. As he snuck behind the curtains that led to the catacombs beneath the opera house, and his home, he hoped that she would understand soon the danger she was in, if she got in his way. And he would take care of it, to give Christine her chance at the spotlight. 

As Tom listened to their conversation, he told himself that this Charlotte Roosevelt would not interfere with his Christine. 

 

He would make sure of it.


	4. Think of Me

"Grandfather, I dont see why we couldn't have this conversation down there, it's not like we were discussing anything that should be private." Said Charlotte as she took the pins out of her hair and removed her hat, showing off her ruby red lips and chocolate brown eyes.

Of course, Charlotte did have a point, a rather good one in fact, as all that was discussed was a grandchild calling her grandfather by 'Monsieur ', but that was not the reason he brought her here.

"Charlotte, child, listen to me. I have never been one for affection, especially after your mother ran off to London to elope with your father. I was upset, and devoted myself to this opera house. It filled a void that was left by your mother when she abandoned this place. I worked as hard as I could, fighting of spies for other opera houses, keeping good talent, even listening to Carlotta's horrid squawking," Charlotte laughed at that, for even if she hadn't heard the diva, if everyone was saying that she was a bad singer, it must be true. "But I kept her around because I could never find anyone for even come close to your mother's talent. That's why you're here. I know you have a beautiful voice, just like her, because you are a spitting image of her. The only thing that is different is your eyes. Your have your father's brown eyes. I know that you can earn a living here, Charlotte, rising over Carlotta, the publicists, and ghosts. You'll do wonderful, my girl." 

Charlotte was speechless. Here she was just an hour ago, angry at this man for abandoning her family, and offering her a job like nothing ever went wrong. But now... he explained why he wants her here, but could it be true? Does he really see Caterina in Charlotte? Of course her mother taught her to sing at an early age, but it was so long since they sang together for the last time on her deathbed. Charlotte never thought she'd be anything like her mother, with how successful she was at this opera house, but she had her chance now, and she wouldn't waste it. 

"Grandfather... I-I don't know what to say... I personally don't believe I could ever be like her, but just to know that you do... Thank you." And with that, she wrapped her arms around Lefevre. Maybe she was forgiving him too quickly, but it didn't matter at that moment, because he was the last family she had, and he would be in another continent in just a few days time. 

She released him from the hug, and saw that there was only love, and tears of happiness in his eyes. While she finally understood, she had to ask,"Grandfather, earlier, you said you didn't want anyone to hear or see us... why?"

Well, Lefevre knew the answer to that question. "Charlotte, I am known around here to only care about the success of my shows, no matter how I treat people to get there. I know it is silly and quite selfish, as I am leaving today, but I don't want anyone to think of me as a pushover." And with that last sentence, he gave her a kiss on the forehead and moved through the door to say his final goodbyes to his staff.

Charlotte stood there, thinking of what all Lefevre said to her. Fighting through horrid squawking, bad talent, liars, and that last one... ghosts. She thought it figurative, but the look in his eye said it was a true statement, a real ghost perhaps. Charlotte laughed at herself. She didn't have time for ghost stories anymore. She was being silly, thinking that he meant an actual ghost. 

"Ghosts... very funny Grandfather."  
The girl turned around opened the curtains of Box 5, looked out across the stage of dancers, and slowly backed out, down the steps to those awaiting an introduction. 

**** 

As Charlotte was reaching the final steps, she finally understood why everyone wanted Carlotta gone. She thought an animal might have been brutally hurt, but alas, all she saw on stage was Carlotta starting her aria from Act 3 of 'Hannibal'.

"-Once in a while, please promise me you'll try  
When you find that once again you long to take your heart ba-"

As though hearing Charlotte's thoughts to put the ensemble out of their misery, a large sandbag fell from the ceiling, just mere feet from Charlotte. While she was startled by almost being hit with 30 pounds of sand, she almost didn't notice the backdrop that was being held by the bag fall on top of Carlotta during her aria. All she heard was the yelling and the shrieks of Carlotta, although Charlotte was less than worried, considering it was just a felt backdrop.

Overdramatic diva, thought Charlotte.

While the managers were helping Carlotta and listening to her complaints and screams, Charlotte looked up and tried to find where the sandbag fell from when she saw a rope swinging gently above her. It was frayed, as it if it had been cut with a knife. Charlotte was starting to suspect that this was no accident. 

"Buquet, for God's sake, what's going on up there?!" Was the first thing she heard as she walked up next to the dancers who were all whispering amongst themselves.

"Please, Monsieur, don't look at me! As God's my witness, I was not at my post! Please Monsieur, there's no one there. And, if there is, well then it must be a ghost!" Buquet states, as he starts laughing hysterically at the fear on the ballet rats' faces.

"It's him! The Phantom of the Opera!" A young blonde girl next to Charlotte sings quietly to a beautiful brunette girl. 

Charlotte couldn't help but be intrigued, especially after her recent conversation. So, as Carlotta was yelling about quitting the show, Charlotte turned to the girls. "Excuse me, young lady? But, who is the Phantom of the Opera?" The blonde girl nearly jumped out of her skin when Charlotte spoke from behind her. "Oh! Mademoiselle, pardon, I didn't see you. You're the woman who just arrived, oui? I hardly recognize you without the hat!" All three of the girls shared a laugh, as it was a good thing to clear the awkwardness and fear from the air. "Yes, I am," and she stuck her hand out to shake the girl's, "Charlotte Roosevelt, and please, no need for the formalities, Charlotte will do just fine, thank you."

The blonde shook her hand gently, "I'm Meg Giry, the ballet director's daughter. This is my best friend, Christine Daaé. She's like my sister, but anyway, you're not here for that. The Phantom of the Opera is a horrid spirit who has haunted this opera house for seemingly forever. But, I've heard it said that he only came around about 15 years ago, when the Opera Populaire was about to fall into the hands of the bank, and be closed permanently. He terrorizes the staff and the actors here. He's a murderer, a thief. And they say that he is from the deepest pits of Hell itself. At least, that's what everyone believes." Charlotte listened to Meg's story intently. A ghost from Hell itself? That surely would be bad, but Charlotte believed that he would have done something worse that drop something on Carlotta that was just a few pounds heavier than her dress. And, 15 years... why 15 years ago was when her mother passed away. Maybe her Grandfather's grief had caused him to lose all joy of his opera house. But, if the house is still here, maybe the ghost helped it, after all. It sure seems like things turned around for the better, save for Carlotta. 

As she thought of this, she nodded to Christine and Meg, and excused herself to go stand by her grandfather. 

Carlotta had been long gone for this time, as everyone was worrying about refunding a full house and cancelling the opera. She was not going to become involved in this mess, so she stepped down off the stage stairs, and sat down in one of the red velvet chairs of the audience, and listened to the conversation. As they all went on, she noticed her grandfather leaving, but not before coming towards her, giving her another kiss on the cheek, saying he loved her, and walking out of the Opera Populaire for good.

"Signora Guidicelli will be returning, won't she?" Andre asks around worridly. 

And, for the first time, Charlotte heard the strict voice of the ballet instructor, Madame Giry. "Oh, you think so, monsieur? I have a letter... from the opera ghost. He simply -" 

"Opera Ghost? You're all obsessed!" Firman says exhaustedly. 

Madame Giry continues, seemingly annoyed that he interrupted her, "HE simply welcomes you to his opera house, and commands that you leave Box 5 empty for his use, or suffer the consequences." She looks pointedly at Charlotte, who had turned pale from the mention of Box 5.

"HIS opera house?!" Firmin exclaims, only to be ignored. Madame Giry looks away from Charlotte, and back to the letter concluding her reading of the Phantom's requests. 

"And reminds you that his salary is due." Giry finishes.

"His salary?" Firmin and Andre say together. At their combined voices, Charlotte snaps back into reality, after fearing what the ghost would do to her for going into His Box.

"But of course.. Monsieur Lefevre paid him twenty thousand francs a month. After all, he did save this opera house 15 years ago from being sold."

"Wether we believe your silly stage rumors or not does not matter, what matters is that he has the gall to ask for twenty thousand francs a month! Absolutely absurd!" Andre says, seemingly about to pass out at the amount.

"Perhaps you could afford more, with the Vicomte as your Patron?"

This shocked Charlotte, a patron? They had a Vicomte as their patron? Well, they should have no problem giving up twenty thousand francs a month to keep the spirit happy!

"I was going to announce this publicly tonight, but without our star, we shall have to cancel. Andre, I will go tell the press, and you can-" Before Firman can finish, he is interrupted by Little Giry, something the Charlotte would be calling her from now on. 

"Christine Daaé could sing tonight sir!"

Both managers looked astonished at that, "A chorus girl? Oh please!"

"Let her sing for you, monsieur. She has been well taught." Madame Giry says to support her daughter's outburst.

"By whom, mademoiselle?" Andre asks, intrigued. 

Christine, for the first time in front of Charlotte, speaks, "I don't know, monsieur. "

"Oh goodness... We'll have to refund a full house Andre!" Firman says as he ignores Christine's teaching. Charlotte is enraged at this, at least give the girl a chance! "Wait! Monsieurs, at least let her try. I'm sure Madame Giry and Meg know what they're talking about! Please!"

Firman had enough of these escapades for one day, first the old manager bringing his family in to work, the day he leaves, giving her a job without her trying, and all this talk if ghosts had gotten to him. And losing their star wa the breaking point. 

"Very well, but this will do nothing for my nerves, Andre. From the beginning of the aria then, mademoiselle."

****

And with that sentence, Tom knew he had won. Of course, he would have to thank that Charlotte girl later, but he had better things to focus on now. 

'Sing, my Christine. '

****

 

"Flowers fade, the fruits of summer fade; they have their season, so do we, But please promise me that sometimes, you will think...of me!"


	5. Little Lotte

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charlotte and Christine become close friends, and share a secret that Christine swore to never tell.

As the opera came to an end, the final notes sung, the last routine danced, and the bows and cheers given, all talk seemed to be focused on Christine Daaé. How could a simple chorus girl have such a voice? It was like an angel. At least that is what Thomas compared her to.

She was simply spectacular, for lack of a greater word. She sang with joy in her voice, proud to be recognized for her talents. Of course she knew that it would not be possible without her teacher, her Angel of Music.

Thomas was trying to focus solely on this, especially after that... fop... sat in HIS box. "Hmm, fop... it suits him," Thomas thought. He was enraged, he had only sent his letter mere hours ago, telling of his requirements for the opera house. Box 5 showed everything on stage perfectly, no matter where you looked or what was being looked at. And that was where Thomas was excited to see his Angel's debut, but he had to settle for seeing all her glory from above the seats, behind the chandelier. Thomas noticed the fop was sitting in his box, but he wasn't alone. Apparently, he and Charlotte had gotten to talking sometime in the afternoon while Thomas was down in his lair. Thomas couldn't help but feel disappointed and dissatisfied in her choice of company.

Charlotte was, interesting to Thomas, to say the least. This girl just shows up seemingly off of the boat from London, and is instantly regarded highly, all because of her relation to the old manager that retired just that same morning. Granted, she hadn't even opened her mouth to sing, and she already was regarded highly by the managers. He even overheard talk of putting Charlotte in as Prima Donna. No! That cannot happen! His Christine just broke out of her shell! She can't be put back down now. Thomas had to do something.

"Alright Mademoiselle Roosevelt, " Thomas thought, "Enjoy your night of feeling important, because tomorrow, that all will change." And with that Thomas left the ceiling walkway, and moved towards the Prima Donna room mirror.

****

As Charlotte bid goodnight to Raoul, and went on her way to leave for her hotel, she ran into Christine. Christine was an excellent singer to Charlotte, and it made her wonder why Christine was only in the chorus. She truly deserved the limelight, and the fame, so why souldnt she get it without Carlotta in the way?

When she walked towards Christine, the girl stopped her. Charlotte was confused by this, considering that she hadn't even gotten a single word out. "Quickly," Christine started, "I'd like to get away from all these people. Follow me Charlotte." And before she could reply, Christine was excusing herself and already rushing into the Prima Donna's dressing rooms. Charlotte quickly followed her inside and closed the door. When she turned around, the first thing she noticed was the large, floor to ceiling mirror on the wall in front of her. The gold details around the edges were beautiful in the candle light, which had come from Christine lighting each candle before they spoke.

Charlotte found quickly that this was her favorite room in the opera house so far. It was fit for a queen, something that Carlotta truly didn't deserve, which she spoke to Christine about right away, to ease into their conversation, as they only spoke minimally earlier in the day, having been blocked out by Meg's stories of opera ghosts.

"You know, Carlotta doesn't deserve this room. She can't sing. I thought everyone had been overexaggeration how horrid of a voice she had before I heard her today, but, unfortunately, it was worse than what they said." Charlotte started,hoping to bring some humor to the conversation to make it more comfortable for both parties involved. Luckily, it worked in her favor, as Christine laughed lightly. "Yes, I suppose so. I was always jealous of her, if you could believe it. Not of her voice no, but just how well she had the old manager wrapped around her finger. How he ever put up with her, I'll never understand," seemingly realizing who she was saying this to, she quickly corrected herself, "Not that he was ignorant about it, or clueless, or... um...." And with that she stopped and looked down embarrasedly.

Charlotte just chuckled, and lightly spoke, "It's alright Christine. I understand what you meant. I am not offended or upset by it. I hardly knew him after all. Anyways, enough talk of my grandfather. Let's talk about you! You sang so beautifully tonight! You must tell me who your teacher is, please Christine? I simply must know who is so skilled to have taught you to sing like an angel!" Charlotte spoke exitedly.

Christine just smiled, and wondered what to say. Should she tell her new friend of her Angel? Would he be upset? No one was to know who he was, even she did not know his name, only that he was an angel sent to her from Heaven Above from her father. "Maybe, just this once, I could tell her. She seems so curious, and who am I to deny her of that joy of curiosity?" Christine thought.

"Well, I suppose I could tell, but you mustn't tell any living soul!" And with that, she began.

"When I was a young girl, only 8 years old, my father got sick. I was so frightened, because he was all I had left. My mother died during childbirth complications, and instead of grieving, my father devoted all his time to me, along with his love and passion for music. We would always sing together, or I would sing, while he played the violin. My favorite memories consisted of us being hidden from the world in the attic, playing his violin, reading stories, and telling his story of Little Lotte, a girl who wa ssent the Angel of Music to teach her to sing. I had always wished for the Angel to visit me, and I believe it came true. I believe that my father has sent me the Angel of Music when he passed away. He promised he would, and I have no doubts anymore. He is my teacher, Charlotte. And he has told me that I am his muse. His savior. It makes me so proud that I make him happy."

Throughout Christine's whole story, Chrlotte stayed silent. An Angel of Music? This is what she believes? Granted she was only 16, but she looked as if all her life was devoted to this make believe angel. Charlotte would have loved to believe in angels coming down from Heaven, to help and guide their wards, and keep them safe, but how could she? She was never comforted when her parents died, nor when she lost everything good she had, so why start believing now?

However, biting her tongue as to not ruin the girl's fantasies, all Charlotte did was smile and look as though she believed her. "So, you believe you teacher is the Angel of Music?"

"Who else could it be? He shows up in my life when I need him most, and always sings only for me to hear. He teaches me, and treats me like a daughter. I believe it was my own father who sent him, to guide me as he would." Christine countered.

And so, she began to do the one thing she felt comfortable enough to do... Sing.

 _Father once spoke of an Angel,_  
_I used to dream he'd appear,_  
_Now as I sing, I can sense him,_  
_And I know he's here_.

 _Here in this room, he calls me softly,_  
_Somewhere inside, hiding._  
_Somehow I know, he's always with me,_  
_He the unseen genius_.

Charlotte was at war with herself, should she let her continue, or soften the blow of reality. Regrettably, she chose the latter.

**_Christine, you must have been dreaming,_ **  
**_Stories like this can't come true,_ **  
**_Christine, you're talking in riddles,_ **  
**_And it can't be you!_ **

Christine shot up from her chair at the vanity, seemingly shocked that Charlotte would sing. This was the first time she had ever heard her, and it was beautiful! Christine wondered if she had ever even had proper training though, as she didnt sound confident in her voice, as if Charlotte was worried she would hurt the ears of anyone who listened. So, as to not frighten away her singing, Christine reached out and grabbed her hand gently, almost as if they had known each other for years, and it was completely normal for them. However new their friendship was, it didn't matter, Charlotte felt happy that Christine still trusted her, however ridiculous her fantasies were.

 _Angel of Music, guide and guardian, grant to me your glory!_  
**_Who is this angel, this,_**

  **Angel of Music, hide no longer,**  
**secret and strange angel.**

 _He’s with me even now_  
_**Your hands are cold**_ -  
_All around me..._  
**_Your face, Christine, it’s white_** -  
_It frightens me_.

 _ **Don’t be frightened**_...

 

Charlotte sighed. She would just have to let Christine believe this fantasy, for however long she did. She wouldn't give it up. Who was she to rain on a parade of happiness. Charlotte didnt get a lot of happiness in her life, but she would never intentionally ruin other people's. So she changed the subject quickly.

"Anyway... Little Lotte... I've never heard of that." Charlotte eased in.

Christine let o of her hands, shocked by how quickly the topic changed, but responded nonetheless. "Um, yes. Little Lotte. It was a story my father and mother made up. Father and Raoul always called me Lotte. Wait! Lotte! It's the end of your name, Charlotte! It has to be your nickname now. That's what I shall call you from now on. It'll be your nickname from myself alone. How would you like that?"

This shocked Charlotte. A nickname? She hadn't had one of those since her parents died. She missed it. "It sounds great! But are you sure you dont want it anymore?"

"Heavens no! Not even Raoul called me that before I left for Paris, and he used it the most! Speaking of which, I saw you and Raoul talking in your shared box. How has he been?" Charlotte was shocked that Raoul and Christine knew each other as children. It seemed they were extremely close to one another before she left, and maybe they would hit it off again.  
Charlotte had tried to become friends with him, but couldn't do anything more than be polite. He was arrogant, and self-obsessed. He bragged many times about being the patron of the Opera Populaire, which put him low in Charlotte's mind.

Charlotte just smiled painfully, and replied as nicely as she could without trying to sound ferocious towards Raoul.

"He's fantastic. He recognized you, you know? He seemed completely infatuated with you. Why, do I hear wedding bells in the distance?" Charlotte joked. That earned her a slap on the arm and a laugh from Christine before she went behind her changing screen. It felt good to act like a child again first Charlotte.

"We haven't even talked yet! But... I wouldn't be opposed to it. I'll just have to spend more time with him."

"Yes, I suppose you will. And it seems like you're getting your chance now" Charlotte replied as she peeked her head out the door, watching as the Vicomte came towards the dressing room.

"He's coming down the hall now." Charlotte snickered.

"What?!" Christine started stammering, "W-well, hold him off! I'm not dressed!"

So as not to worry her new friend, Charlotte stepped out into the hall, slamming the door behind her, just as Raoul started talking.

"Oh, Mademoiselle Roosevelt! I didnt know you were down in the dressing rooms. The managers were looking for you. Is this Christine's rooms?" Charlotte could tell he looked hopeful, from the way he was carrying the flowers he'd brought her. With a sly smirk, she sneakily replied, "Of course. But shes a little preoccupied at the moment. Shes getting naked. Have a nice night Raoul!"

And with that, Charlotte scampered away laughing, leaving a blushing Raoul behind. He had never heard a lady use such vulgar words before, especially in public to a man. He shook his head, cleared his throat, took a deep breath, and knocked gently on Christine's door, waiting for an answer.


	6. A Promise Broken

"One moment!" Christine yelled towards the door. She quickly tied her robe, and made herself decent. She sat down at her vanity, and quickly made her hair look presentable. She took a deep breath, after worrying about who would want to see her in her dressing room, especially right after her tiring performance.  
  
She cleared her throat, which was tired after the night of singing, "Come in..."  
She spoke just loud enough for the person on the other side of the door to hear her request.  
  
The door opened slowly, and she heard a quiet voice, almost if the person was embarrassed to come into her room. "Miss Daaé? Are you decent?" The man quietly spoke. Christine laughed under her breath, it was no doubt her new friend Charlotte who sent him her way, but she still had to be pleasant, just until she finds Charlotte again and reams her for this man's unexpected visit.  
  
"Yes, of course, you may come in if you wish to."  
  
To say Christine was shocked was an understatement. It was Raoul. Raoul, the boy she grew up with until she came to the opera house. Raoul, the boy she fell in love with. Raoul, a man now, but still just as shy as she remembered. He had an attitude of confidence, but it was only hiding the shyness of meeting his childhood sweetheart once more.  
  
"Raoul... it's you..."  
  
Raoul smiled proudly,"You remember me? Truly?" Christine smiled at his shock, "Of course I remember you Raoul. Those picnics in the attic, Father playing his violin for us..." Christine had a bittersweet smile while talking about her father, a sad smile while remembering some of her happiest memories. "I've missed you Raoul. You've grown up to such a young man. I...I can hardly believe it. "  
  
Raoul smiled proudly, she still believed he was handsome! Granted she didn't say it, but Raoul knew that was what she meant. His arrogance was getting the better of him now, and it seems he was blind to it. Christine knew what he was doing, but didn't focus on it, because of how happy she was. "Thank you Christine... I've missed you as well. You look so beautiful, but that I can believe. Now, you never told me you could sing like that. It was like an angel."  
  
Christine smiled at that, "It is because of the Angel of Music. Raoul, do you remember Little Lotte? The story Father used to tell me? Well, the Angel was her teacher, and helped her sing like an angel. Father said 'When I am in heaven, I shall send you the angel of music, so he can teach you to sing beautifully as well'. Well, Father is dead Raoul, and I have been visited by the Angel of Music."  
  
Raoul smiled at her childlike wonder, "Oh, I have no doubt of it. And now, we go to supper." And with that Raoul stood up and help out his hand to help Christine up.  
  
"Oh no Raoul! The Angel is very strict. We made a promise.... no distractions. I-I swore to him! We can't Raoul. I'm sorry."  
  
Raoul wouldn't stop though, he refused to take no for an answer. "Nonsense, he can spare one night. You must get dressed, I'll get my carriage, Little Lotte." And then he was gone. Christine was frightened, she didnt know what her Angel would do.  
  
\---  
  
How dare he! This insolent boy! Trying to take his Christine away before he could talk and praise her. Thomas could always see that Christine was easily distracted, but this would ruin her focus! From what Thomas heard from the end of Christine's conversation with Charlotte, they certainly cared for each other in childhood, so why wouldn't they now!  
  
With a growl that almost seemed demonic, he angrily stalked toward the door to her dressing room, locking it with the key he had made, for this exact reason. If only it had been under happier circumstances. Thomas wished he could simply go to her room, congratulate her on her performance, and, like a father proud of his child, give her a kiss on her forehead and bid her farewell until they would start their lessons again. But, as fate would have it, it was not in his plans any longer.  
  
He made his way back towards his mirror through the passageways behind the walls of the dressing room to see Christine once more. She was now dressed in a light pink evening dress, and had just sat down at her vanity to fix her hair. Thomas almost glared at how fast she was ready for her 'date' with Raoul, but he tried to keep his anger under control. After all, she did tell the boy that Thomas was strict, and that she should stay, but it sure took little to no convincing to get Christine to leave the opera house.  
  
Thomas decided that now would be the best time to make his presence known to the young girl.  
  
\----  
  
Stepping away from the vanity mirror, Christine went to put on her coat on, ready to leave with Raoul. Oh, how excited she was! He remembered her! He remembered all the fun they had when they were younger, and how much they were in love. She was just tying her overcoat, walking towards the door, excited for her dinner with Raoul. She stopped in front of the door and turned the knob.  
  
It didn't open.  
  
She tried once more, firmly this time, and still no budge. She realized that someone must have locked it from the outside. But surely that had to be an accidental mistake right? Everyone who had a key to the room knew she was still in here, so why would they even go near the door? As she looked through her drawers for the key, a sudden gust of wind blew out all the candles in the room, save one directly behind Christine, blocked from the air by her body. The remaining candle cast an eerie glow around the room, making shadows jump and glide across the walls and floor. This frightened Christine. That had never happened before to her knowledge. Now she was more eager than ever to find the key. She took the candelabra in her hand and used the small light to look behind the makeup on the desk. A glint of light reflecting on silk made her stop in her tracks. A beautiful, full red rose sat on her vanity, a black silk ribbon tied around the thornless stem. She had forgotten that Madame Giry gave it to her, saying that he would be pleased. It was then that Christine's fear went away, but her anxiety came to her at full force. Did he really see her perform? Was he proud of her? Would he be upset at her? Time would only tell, but it seemed time was up, and she had to face her teacher. Now.  
  
*****  
  
**"Insolent boy! This slave of fashion, basking in your glory! Ignorant fool! This brave young suitor, sharing in my triumph!**  
  
_Angel I hear you, speak, I listen. Stay by my side, guide me. Angel, my soul was weak — forgive me. Enter at last, Master._  
  
**Flattering child, you shall know me. See why in shadow I hide. Look at your face in the mirror, I am there inside!**  
  
_Angel of Music, guide and guardian, grant to me your glory. Angel of Music, hide no longer. Come to me, strange ang-"_  
  
Christine stopped suddenly, as she saw the man from her dreams right in front of her. Right in her mirror. Where he said he would be. She should have been ecstatic. She was finally seeing him, after be constantly said she would meet him soon, but to return to their ever-punctual lessons. He never lied, and was never late. He always would be there, whenever she needed him. But the question was, did she need him now?  
  
*****  
  
The mirror started moving away from the wall, a secret door, leading Thomas straight to his protégé.  
  
He stepped out from behind the mirror, ominous, but slowly, as not to scare the young girl. He cautiously put his hands up in a peaceful gesture, like one would when calming a spooked horse. He could sense her fear. He was angry, yes, but he didn't want to horrify her with his attitude. She would have enough horror from his face. But there was nothing Thomas could do about that. He accepted long ago that his curse would never truly be broken. For who could ever love a beast? He may love, but never be loved in return, not with his face. He never even got his chance to give his music to the world. For now, it all was hidden away in his home. Perhaps it would never see the light of day, or even come above ground, but he'd also accepted that, leaving him and his emotions in shambles. Christine was the only one who had shed a tiny bit of joy into his life. And that's why he was mad. It was hard enough to gain her trust, and she throws herself back towards this young boy. And when they grow closer, Thomas would be left in the dust. Left in his catacomb and cavern of a home, alone in the dark, cursed for the rest of his days. He had to stop her leaving. Even if it meant frightening her to submission.  
  
Finally, after a hard staring match, of anger and fear, Rhimas put his hands down, and continued staring at the teenager.  
  
"I-I..."  
  
Thomas rolled his eyes and sighed when she started stuttering and trying to think of excuses for herself.  
  
"Christine, if you must give excuses about why you agreed to leave with him to save yourself from my anger, the least you could do is have a bit of dignity and power in your voice. That was the first thing I taught you, and it should be used in both singing and talking. Do you understand?"  
  
He looked at her, waiting for a respectful answer.  
  
"Yes, Angel. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to, you just caught me off guard is all."  
  
Thomas sighed, "Yes, I didn't want our first official meeting to be like this. I didnt want to be angry at you. I wanted to come here, congratulate you on a wonderful performance, and perhaps give you some time off from lessons to rest yourself. However, it seems that fate had other plans. Don't you agree?"  
  
Christine's eyes brightened at the mention of her performance, but her mood lowered again after she realized he said he was angry. She bowed her head, looking guilty, like a daughter who was getting scolded by a father, which is exactly how she felt.  
  
"I'm so sorry Angel. I had no idea you would be so angry with me. I was just so happy to see him again." Christine defended.  
  
Thomas went towards her vanity and started relighting the candles. "Again? Yes, it appeared you two had met before. Who is he?"  
  
Christine was now more at ease, with the light back, and his, seemingly, calm voice. So she no problem telling her Angel all about Raoul.  
  
"We knew each other as children. We grew up together until I had to leave my father's home. I had never thought I would see him again. But isn't it wonderful? I'm so happy to have him in my life once more!"  
  
And with her chipper attitude, and bubbly voice of cheer, Thomas snapped. He grabbed her by the shoulders tightly, almost hard enough to leave bruises.  
  
"OH YES IT IS FANTASTIC CHRISTINE! TELL ME, ARE YOU GOING TO SEE HIM EVERY DAY NOW? PERHAPS RUN AWAY FROM YOUR CAREER TO BECOME HIS PRETRY LITTLE HOUSEWIFE WHO DOESN'T DO ANYTHING WITH HER LIFE?! DOES THAT SOUND LIKE A PERFECT LIFE TO YOU CHRISTINE?! DOES IT?!"  
  
Thomas was breathing heavily when he was done, and tried to calm himself down. He looked at Christine and only saw the fear. Damn. He hadn't meant to scare her tonight, but it slipped out. His anger got the best of him. How could he fix this? He yanked his arms off of her, leaving her to stumble and fall on the loveseat next to her. Thomas watched as she backed far away from him, terrified he might hurt her. The tears in her eyes were reflecting the candlelight, and as Thomas steadied himself, he saw the rose she was holding lying on the floor, the ribbon untied from the fall. He took a deep breath and looked at Christine.  
  
"I'm sorry, my dear. You must forgive my temper. But I don't want you to make the wrong choice. He already is in your mind, and that thought will spread like a virus, making him the constant being of your attention. Soon, you won't care for singing, or your lessons, or me, and I never wanted that. My darling, you must understand... you're special to me. You're like a daughter I never had, but always wanted. I don't want him to trample your success, our success. My temper got the better of me, and I apologize."  
  
Thomas stood silently, waiting for a reply.  
  
Christine, shakily took a deep breath, blinked away the tears and stood. She was ready to talk.  
  
"Angel. I'm extremely sorry. I was so caught up in the moment, I never stopped to think anything could go wrong. I appreciate your concerns for my future, but the key word there is ' _my_ '. It's my future to make, and I know you want what is best for me. But what if this is what's best? I loved performing tonight, I did. But, I don't believe I'm good enough to continue, with or without lessons."  
  
Thomas was ready to interrupt, to tell her she was wrong, and her voice could have no limits if she continued practicing, but Christine was prepared for him to talk so she jumped right back in.  
  
"I know I could be great... but seeing him tonight.... it was magnificent. Angel, I love you, you're like a father to me, you have been since Papa died. But I'm not a child anymore. The promise I made you was to take your lessons, to get me to center stage. Well, I was there, and one time is enough for me. I think I really am making the right decision. If you don't agree, I understand, but all I've ever wanted from you, was your approval. I've felt life I was no longer at home on the stage, I've felt this way for months. But I could never let you down. And I fear that I have now... and I'm sorry." Taking a deep breath, she finished her important speech.  
  
Thomas was shocked. Why had she kept this from him? Their promise was finished. He wanted her to perform more, and technically, she did break the promise, as being the lead of one show and being Prima Donna were two different things at this opera house. Their promise was for her to become Prima Donna.  
  
Besides this, he finally understood. Her distance, her distractions, everything. She wasn't happy anymore. And who was he to deny her joy, like he had been denied his? While his joy would be for her to stay, he knew she had to go. So, with a regretful sigh, and a tense wait from Christine, he spoke.  
  
"Oh my darling girl. I'll admit, I have a very bad temper and attitude, but I could never be mad at you for your unhappiness. While I wish you would reconsider, I understand that thai is ehat you must do. You may go to him. As it seems, you've made your choice. But remember, I'll still watch over you from time to time, and if you ever need me, or wish to sing again, I'll be here. I swear it."  
  
And with those words, Christine leapt to him, catching him off guard in a hug, which surprised both of them. Thomas was surprised because he had not had a hig in years, especially one from someone thanking him. And Christine, well, she was surprised because she expected to go right through him. He was an Angel after all! As Thomas wrapped his arms around her small body, he smiled sadly, gave her a kiss on the crown of her head, and pushed her away.  
  
"Now, I believe that boy is waiting for you. You should go now Christine. "  
  
He had never seen her smile as wide as she did when he spoke those words. She practically ran to the door, flinging it open, and hardly looking back as she yelled a thank you and a goodbye.  
  
As the door slowly swung closed, Thomas' smile dropped. He got the melancholy feeling once more, but it was tripled now, as he truly was alone now. But, as he stepped into the mirror, his only thoughts were of Christine's happiness.  
  
All for Christine.  
  
  



	7. The Joys of Music

After her brief encounter with Raoul, Charlotte decided that it was time to leave. Her first day at the opera house was just as uneventful as she expected. Sure she got a few stares, and met some extremely nice people, but all in all, the day was terribly boring. 

Charlotte couldn't wait for everyone to get used to her presence and be comfortable around her. Maybe then, she would have a better time. But there was no way she would attempt to talk to anyone first. Talking to a complete stranger always sent chills down her spine and terrified her. People could be cruel, and Charlotte wouldn't put herself in any position that would put her at risk of that. 

As she was passing through the hallway, she heard beautiful music coming from the stage, 3 doors ahead of her. This was strange to Charlotte, as all the performers had left, and all the dancers and musicians were asleep in their rooms. No one was awake at this time unless they had to be. Or, in Christine and Raoul's case, wanted to be. The day certainly was tiring for all of them, and they would certainly need energy to do it all again tomorrow. 

Charlotte's first instinct was to walk the other direction, towards her new room, given to her so kindly by Madame Giry, as she did not want Charlotte with the ballet girls, as she was quite a bit older than most of them. Unfortunately, her curiosity got the better of her. And no matter how much she wanted to run to her room and throw herself onto the plush bed and remove her exhaustion from both the day and the travels before, she walked toward the stage doors slowly. She walked down the corridor and through the doorway, and fould herself at the very back of the room. Charlotte made her way through the room, which was now dark, as all the candles and lamps had been extinguished. She found herself walking through old curtains and backdrops from past shows, that were left to rot and decay, something that didn't sound like something you would find in such a majestic building such as the Opera Populaire. She pushed and trudged her way through each layer of curtains, until she finally reached the front of the stage, covered in the set for the current show. 

The first thing she noticed, besides the beautiful stage, was that she was completely alone in the room. But she still heard the music. It was even louder now, but Charlotte now understood that she still was not in the room the music was coming from. The deep organ music was loud, and majestic, but dark and melancholy, with a sadness that could only be reached through music. If she had found the source, Charlotte would have wondered who had to go through so much pain to unlock those types of emotions in their music. It was almost enough to make Charlotte cry right there.

When she finally gave up her search for the organ and its mysterious and haunting sounds, she sighed and walked back towards the doors at the back of the stage.

As she looked around one last time, she never noticed the grate that led all the way down into the cellars and catacombs underneath the opera house.   
~~~~~

Down in his own world of loneliness and darkness, Thomas played the last chords of his somber song. Tonight was not supposed to be so sad. His Christine had finally sung as the lead. And she was glorious. But he couldn't help but be sad. Thomas knew she would leave. She would follow that boy off the Eiffel Tower and still look at him with a smile on her face and love in her eyes. 

Why couldn't someone look at Thomas that way? Because of that devilish woman that ruined his life. The only good thing she did was truly open his mind to what music should be. It shouldn't be comedies of love affairs or stories of faraway enchanted lands, it should show someone's true feelings. Music should be an example of what a person truly thinks and feels inside of them. Maybe that's why Thomas could only play these sad tunes. It was the only way to show how much he was hurting. He didn't have anyone who cared for him anymore. He cut all ties with his family after that night, and now Christine would be gone in a matter of weeks.

Madame Giry had tried to talk to him earlier in the evening, but even she didn't care. She felt pity, and that was all. She pitied him and gave him a place to stay imprisoned from the world. And all she brought with her was a curious child who would get herself hurt if she didnt mind her own business. 

As he played his final notes, he took his hands off of his instrument and looked around. He looked at the music he wrote for Christine to sing, songs he had written for years. Well, they were pointless now. He stood up, collected all the pieces of parchment together, and walked over to a small fireplace across the cellar he called home. He looked down at them once more, and tossed them into the fire, and watched as they burned. He felt himself burning with them. The last of his happiness, all reduced to ash. He sat there the rest of the night, watching the fire grow weaker and weaker, until it finally died out sometime in the early morning, leaving him in the darkness and deadly silence.   
~~~~~  
Charlotte woke the next morning, and instead of being refreshed, as she had hoped, was even more exhausted. She groaned to herself, and looked at the clock, and growled to herself when she say that it was so early. She tossed the blankets over her head and tried to fall back asleep. But as fate would have it, Madame Giry knocked on her door. Getting no reply, she opened the door and saw Charlotte still trying to fall back asleep. Madame Giry walked up to her and sat on the side of her bed. 

"Miss Roosevelt. Miss Roosevelt you must get up now." And with no reply, not that she was expecting one anyways, she pulled the blankets off of her. "Charlotte! Get up now! Your new job starts today. I'm sure you aren't used to getting up this early, but here, we do. And honestly, girl, you are harder to wake up than some of my childish and stubborn dancers." And then, she stood up and lit all the lanterns hanging on the wall, blinding the poor girl through her eyelids. 

Charlotte scrunched her eyes closed even tighter, but knew that it would be no use. She hadn't known Madame Giry long, but Charlotte knew that she was not a woman to be messed with. With a grunt, she sat up and opened her eyes. Her arms stretched up above her head as she yawned loudly. 

"I feel terrible for whoever has to see that every morning once they marry you." 

As she heard this, Charlotte opened her eyes and looked at her mirror, seeing her hair in messy curls all over her head, and the makeup from last night all over her face, as she was too tired to care last night. 'Well, I regret that.' Charlotte thought, as she could now form a coherent thought. As the insult finally clicked in Charlotte's mind, she gaped and looked at Madame Giry. The old woman, who Charlotte had never seen with anything other than a scowl, was now looking amused.

With a face that could give the signature Giry scowl a run for its money, Charlotte stood up and started to brush out her hair in front of her vanity. 

"Very amusing, Madame. Truly."

"You may learn, Charlotte, that while I am a tough instructor, I am a mother as well. I've dealt with stubborn risers and unladylike behaviors." 

The ballet instructor walked up to Charlotte and took the brush out of her hand. She started combing through the woman's hair. Charlotte was confused. It wasn't that she didn't appreciate the woman doing so, but she was confused at why she missed an older woman's presence in her life. With her mother gone for years, it was nice to have a caring touch. 

As Madame Giry finished her hair, she put it up into a tight hairstyle that would stay put through the whole day. "Don't expect this every day, but do understand Charlotte, I take care of the girls around here. I would like for you to have the same level of care for this place as I do. The young girls don't really understand the importance of this building, but we do. They think it is just a way to get on a stage and in the spotlight. This building is my life, it's in my blood Charlotte. I know it is in yours too. I knew your mother. She was a wonderful woman. And if she taught you anything, it would be to appreciate this place for the stories, not the performances. I'm glad you are here dear. Now, finish getting ready. I'm sure you'll have to sing for the managers at some point today. But until then, you can work with me."

And as quickly as she walked through the door, Madame Giry left the room. Charlotte understood the importance of her talk with the Madame. She grew up with wonderful stories of this place, and it was even prettier than she was expecting. Even if it was falling down around her, she would believe it was heaven on earth. How anyone could only come here to get fame was beyond her. These operas tell stories, and have their own emotions. She wouldn't let anyone take the music for granted. 

Charlotte finished getting dressed and walked out to the stage, ready for her first day. She just prayed she could impress the managers.

~~~~~   
On her way through, Charlotte heard the managers in the main ballroom of the opera house. The first thing she heard was Andre practically screaming for all of Paris to hear.

"Andre, please don't shout... It's publicity! And the take is vast! Free publicity!"

"But we have no cast!"

"André, have you seen the queue? Oh, it seems you've got one too..."

As she peeked around the corner to see what they were talking about, she saw Andre reading from a piece of parchment in his hand, with a bright red wax seal on it.

 "Dear Andre, what a charming gala, Christine was in a word sublime. We were hardly bereft when Carlotta left; on that note, the diva's a disaster, must you cast her when she's seasons past her prime?" And the second he finished, Firmin read an identical letter out loud.

"Dear Firmin, just a brief reminder. My salary has not been paid. Send it care of the Ghost by return of post, P.T.O! No one likes a debtor so it's better if my orders are obeyed!"

Who would have the gall to send this? Someone with a puerile brain. These are both signed O.G. Firmin looked like he was trying to think of who would sign a letter with those initials, but before he could get anywhere, Andre jumped in asking, "Who the Hell is he?"   
Charlotte had heard O.G before. She knew she had. Of course! She knew who that was, it's the-

"Opera Ghost!"

"It's nothing short of shocking! And he's mocking our position! In addition, he wants money-

"What a funny apparition!"

"Well, to expect a large retainer, nothing plainer, he is clearly quiet insane!" 

Well, it's better to appease him than make him angry, Charlotte thought. Oh well. Not my problem. And with that she scampered away toward the stage, right as Christine and Raoul walked through the doors, hand in hand.


End file.
